


Blinking In The Starlight

by sunlight-and-storms (all_i_see_is_sky)



Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: F/F, Tangled AU, this was supposed to be a oneshot but rip that i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27714221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_i_see_is_sky/pseuds/sunlight-and-storms
Summary: Yet all was not well. For the healing flower had for many years been used by an evil witch to preserve her beauty. And now that it was gone, the witch wanted revenge. So she snuck into the palace in the dead of night and killed the little princess while she slept.Oh, don’t give me that look. That’s what witches do, kill things. You shouldn’t have been so surprised.In any case, this is why we see lanterns in the sky every year, why we have a festival on that day- the girl’s old birthday. It’s a tribute to the lost princess, a symbol of mourning.Mourning andhope,that is, since the queen, in her mad old age, is quite convinced her daughter managed to survive.(Or: Biana's in a tower, Marella's running from the law, and everyone learns a little something new about themselves.)
Relationships: Marella Redek/Biana Vacker
Comments: 78
Kudos: 30





	1. Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This is, as the tags suggest, a Marelliana Tangled AU- it was originally supposed to be a 3000-word oneshot, but I'm incapable of following my own directions so now we have this. 
> 
> It's completed, 10k, and has some beautiful art done for it. (Check out @lemontarto on tumblr!!) I'll probably post the last two chapters sometime in the next couple of weeks. 
> 
> A note: Since this fic was previously written to be a oneshot, its chapters are of varying length. This is the longest one. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

_Once upon a time, for that is how all good stories begin, once upon a time there was a princess. She was the most beautiful in the land; beautiful and good and kind and perfect._

_What? Of course I never met her. What a question. Everyone_ _simply_ knew _she was beautiful, like we know the sky is blue. It was simply fact._

_Anyway. Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in a beautiful castle and married a handsome prince. And the princess became queen, and the prince became king, and together, they had two adorable sons._

_But sickness began to spread, and the king and queen fell very ill. So ill, in fact, that they could barely move. The kingdom mourned, not just for their monarchs but for the unborn child the queen carried. And when the king passed away, all hope seemed lost._

_No, of course, it wasn’t. What sort of story would that be? Be quiet and listen, silly girl._

_High on a mountain there sat a single flower, grown from a drop of liquid sunlight and the tear of a single mermaid. It was said that this flower, colored teal as the ocean and shining bright as the sun, could cure all wounds. The queen’s eldest son plucked this flower to bring to his mother, and the queen recovered within the day._

_And cheers rained through the kingdom when the queen gave birth to a perfect baby daughter._

_Yet all was not well. For the healing flower had for many years been used by an evil witch to preserve her beauty. Now that it was gone, the witch wanted revenge. So she snuck into the palace in the dead of night and killed the little princess while she slept._

_Oh, don’t give me that look. That’s what witches do, kill things. You shouldn’t have been so surprised._

_In any case, this is why we see lanterns in the sky every year, why we have a festival on that day- the girl’s old birthday. It’s a tribute to the lost princess, a symbol of mourning._

_Mourning and_ hope _, that is, since the queen, in her mad old age, is quite convinced her daughter managed to survive._

Is _she still alive?_ _Don’t be ridiculous, darling. The princess is dead, and that’s that._

_Now come along, Marella. It’s time for you to sleep._

* * *

“Mother? Where do the lanterns come from?”

Brown hair snakes its way around the tower, unbound and slightly soggy from its washing. If you look closely, you can see tiny wisps of teal light fading from around it, the same shade as the eyes of six-year-old girl nestled into her pillows. An older woman brushes her hair, humming a tune that seems to somehow be in sync with the disappearing lights. As the last of the light fizzles out, the wrinkles on her face smooth. Vespera smiles indulgently. 

“From the palace, darling. They’re a celebration of some sort.”

“Oh.” Biana pauses, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Does that mean there’s a party? Can we go?”

“No, beautiful. It’s not safe out there, I’m sorry.” 

Biana’s face falls and she twists her hair tighter around her finger. Gently, Vespera reaches out and uncurls it. “Don’t do that. Remember what I’ve told you?”

“My hair is beautiful, so I have to take care of it.” Biana recites. Vespera nods and gives her a short hug. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. The lanterns don’t matter.”

“Mmm.” Biana snuggles down into her bed, closing her eyes. “Mother? I love you.”

Vespera offers a small smile. “Sleep well, beautiful.”

Biana goes to sleep that night with glowing lanterns floating through her mind.

* * *

_Twelve Years Later_

Glowing lanterns are floating on the ceiling. 

Well, not really. Biana’s tried to make her own lanterns before and it’s never really worked out; they’ll always crumple up, or fall to pieces, or, on one particularly bad occasion, get set on fire and almost burn her entire tower down. 

But the painted lanterns on the ceiling are about as real as she can make them look, and that’s enough for Biana. Really, it’s the thought that counts. 

It’s an odd sort of peace, lying on the floor staring up at her paintings; calm, serene, but stifling. Like she’s trapped in a too-small box and is going to run out of air soon. 

Biana had asked her mother, a few days ago, if they could go see the lights this year. 

_“I’m eighteen,” she had begged. “What is there to be afraid of anymore? I can handle it.”_

_Mother had simply laughed. “Beautiful, you have no idea what’s out there. Bandits, monsters, cannibals- you’d be dead the moment you set foot outside the tower, and then what would I be?”_

_“Mother-”_

_“Heartbroken, that’s what.” She shakes her head. “The people out there are vicious, darling. Any one of them would happily kill you.”_

_Biana sighs, looking at the wooden floorboards beneath her feet. “I know, Mother.”_

_“Why do you love those lanterns so much, anyway?” Mother asks, pulling down the teakettle and filling it with water. “They’re floating lights, darling. Nothing more.”_

_“I know,” Biana says again. “I just… it’s like they’re calling to me. Like I know them.”_

_Mother freezes for a millisecond, turning away to pour the boiled water into a pair of cups. “That’s ridiculous, darling. Where would you ever have seen those lanterns?”_

_“I-” Biana shrugs. “If I could just_ see _them up close-”_

_“No, beautiful. It’s not safe.”_

_Biana frowns, sitting down at the table and takes the cup of tea her mother offers her. “All right. I understand.”_

She doesn’t. Not really. All it would take was one trip outside- one night, just to see the lanterns. Then she’d come home, back to her tower, and live the rest of her life happy. 

_Mother’s just trying to protect you,_ she reminds herself. _This is for your own good. She just wants to help you._

But lying on her floor as the sky darkens to purple outside, Biana doesn’t feel very helped. 

Her mother is away for the next week, off buying Biana new paints in some far-off corner of the kingdom. And the lanterns are in _two days;_ there’s no way Biana can go this year. 

Or any year, honestly. 

A sharp _clang_ echoes through the tower and Biana sits straight up, staring at her window. There’s something- some _one-_ out there, a definite weight pulling on the grappling hook that’s now attached to the windowsill. Quietly, she scrambles to her feet and reaches for the nearest weapon-adjacent thing. 

Really, a frying pan is the best she’s going to get. 

Someone climbs over the windows and lands with a thump on the floor, blond hair illuminated by the rising moon. Before the person can even stand up all the way, Biana hits them over the head. 

She takes a deep breath, setting the pan down and putting her hands on her knees. Violence isn’t something she _does;_ not now, not ever. Biana has an overwhelming urge to call for her mother. 

Mother is miles away by now, though, so Biana’s on her own. She crouches next to the intruder, poking their shoulder just to make sure they’re unconscious. They don’t respond, but the flap on their satchel falls open, a glint of gold catching Biana’s eye. 

She withdraws a gold circlet, studded with amethysts; similar to the crowns princesses wear in the books Mother has given her. She doesn’t know what this person is doing with such a beautiful thing, but if the rate at which they climbed her tower is any indication, they’re running from something dangerous.

Hmm.

* * *

The sun begins to rise, casting yellow light through Biana’s window and onto the blond girl tied to a chair. She wakes with a start, almost tipping the chair over. 

“What? Where-”

Biana, still groggy from the few minutes of sleep she’s managed to catch, points the frying pan at the girl’s head. 

“Don’t move.” 

Now, in the early-morning light with the intruder awake, Biana can take a good look at her. What she sees is surprising; a teenage girl, barely older than Biana herself, blond hair tied back in a braid. Her eyes are cold, ice blue, narrowed right now in Biana’s direction. This is someone who’s seen too much. 

But then the girl’s frown turns into a laugh, and it’s like the sun just rose for a second time. Biana’s taken aback for a moment by the sheer _light_ of it. 

“A frying pan?” the girl says. “Really?”

“Hey, you just got _knocked out_ by this frying pan,” Biana growls, trying to make herself sound as menacing as possible. “You might want to be a bit less snarky.”

“I’ve been in a lot worse situations than having a pretty girl point a frying pan at me,” the girl smirks, holding out a hand. (Or, holding it out as much as she can, which is pretty much not at all since her wrists are tied to the chair.) “Marella, by the way.”

“Biana,” Biana responds, her brain still stuck on the words _pretty girl._ “What are you doing in my tower?”

Marella gives a tiny shrug. “Well, I didn’t know it was _your_ tower. I just needed a place to hide from the guards.”

“The _royal_ guards.” Biana confirms. “The _Queen’s_ guards. Because you stole something from the queen.” 

Smirking, Marella raises an eyebrow. “I can neither confirm or deny that.” Her expression slides into panic. “Wait. Where’s my bag?”

Biana tosses the now-empty satchel into the other girl’s lap. Marella shoots her a sharp look. “What did you do with it,” she growls. Biana folds her arms. 

“You can have your crown back,” she says cooly, “ _if_ you do something for me.”

“Fine.” Marella glares at her. “What do you want?”

“I want you to take me to see the lanterns.” 

The blond girl blinks, tilting her head slightly. “Like… the floating ones? The ones for the lost princess?” When Biana nods, she shakes her head. “Absolutely not. I’m a wanted criminal, remember? There’ll be posters with my face on them all over. Heading to the palace is the _last_ thing I need to do.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just keep the crown, then.” Biana shrugs. “It would make a pretty nice headband.” 

Marella groans. “You know what? Fine. Let’s go see the lanterns.”

Biana pumps her fist, jumping into the air. “ _Yes!”_

“You’re going to need to untie me, though,” Marella says dryly, “unless you want to be dragging this chair across the kingdom.”

“Oh. Right.”

The ground is very far away. 

Biana stares down at it fifteen minutes later, feet on her windowsill and satchel of food hung across her chest. From up here, Marella seems tiny, waving her arms as she calls something that sounds like “come on!” 

_The outside world isn’t safe,_ Mother’s words echo in her head. _Bandits, monsters, cannibals- you’d be dead the moment you set foot outside the tower. The people out there are vicious, darling. Any one of them would happily kill you._

But Marella didn’t try to kill her. Marella is _helping_ her finally see the lanterns. So all people on the outside can’t be so bad, right?

Right. 

Biana takes a deep breath and tugs on the hastily-constructed pulley she’s made, making sure it’s secure before she begins to lower herself down. She’s sitting in her hair like it’s a swing, and she _really_ hopes it holds up. 

The ground gets closer, and closer, and then rushes up to meet her because the pulley has broken and Biana is falling. She lands in a heap on top of Marella, arms aching. 

“Hey,” Marella says, scrambling to her feet. She gives Biana a bright smile. “Welcome to the outside.” 

She’s _outside._ The grass is scratchy under her feet, the breeze whips past her head, and maybe this is what living feels like because it’s the first time Biana’s really felt _happy._

“Well?” Marella holds out a hand, turning towards the forest. “Are you coming?”

Biana stares around her, at her tower and the bright blue sky and the trees all around. The outside is beautiful. 

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Okay,” Marella says as they walk through the forest, Biana’s hair bundled in her arms. “You need to listen to me, all right? Follow my instructions, keep your head down, and _don’t talk to anyone_.”

“Wait, why not?” Biana asks as a black cloak is unceremoniously shoved in her face. “Do I have to wear that?”

“Because these people could kill you,” Marella responds, “and yes.”

Grumbling slightly, Biana dumps her hair on the ground and pulls the cloak on, hood hanging low over her face. 

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“The Valkonian,” Marella responds. Biana wrinkles her nose.

“Isn’t that a star?” 

“Yep.”

“Why are we going to a place named after a star to meet people that could _kill us?_ ” 

“I said they could kill _you._ They’re my friends.” Marella pauses for a second. “Well. Sort of. About as close as you could get, really.”

They stop in front of a large wooden bar. There’s a swinging sign in front, some sort of combination of circles and lines. Marella taps a pattern on the door and it opens, the man standing in the doorway pulling her into a one-armed hug. 

“Marella Redek,” he says, grinning. “Looks like you’re back, runt.”

“Fintan,” Marella rolls her eyes. “I didn’t know you’d be around today.”

“Eh. I’m always around.” Fintan pushes the door open and moves back inside, Biana trailing behind Marella anxiously. With the other girl’s _these people could kill you_ hanging in the air, Mother’s warnings don’t seem so stupid. 

They step inside, and Biana takes a moment to glance around the room; or, what she can see of the room under her hood. It’s large, all high ceilings and empty barstools.

Including Fintan, she counts four people- a woman shadowed in a corner sipping a large mug, a man on top of what looks like a grand piano, and a young man at the bar, turned away from everyone else. None of them seem to be paying Fintan or the girls any attention. 

“That’s Gethen,” Marella whispers, pointing towards the man on the piano. Biana jumps slightly at the feeling of the blond girl’s breath on her ear. “And that’s Umber, and Ruy.”

Biana nods as the man at the bar- Ruy- gets to his feet.

“Marella,” he says calmly, a hint of a smirk playing at his mouth. “Are you aware that your face is all over the kingdom?”

“ _What?_ ”

Ruy holds up a sheet of paper with a clear image of Marella on it, head turned to the side and braid flying. “They’re offering quite a reward.” He shakes his head, smiling at her. “I could pay all my debts and _then_ some with that kind of money.”

Biana doesn’t even see it happen. One moment, Marella is by her side- the next, she’s across the room with a dagger to Ruy’s throat. 

“Don’t you _dare._ ”

“Now, Redek,” Gethen drawls, turning around on the piano and resting his feet on the bench. “There’s no need to be violent.”

Marella steps back slightly, dagger still clutched in one white-knuckled fist. “You can’t turn me in,” she says, voice steady but eyes wild. “You _won’t_.”

“Why not?” It’s Umber this time, standing up from her shadowed corner. “Tell us, kid, were you planning on sharing the loot? Or were you just going to take that crown and-” she makes a _poof_ motion with her hands. Marella swallows. 

“I-” She shakes her head. “I was-”

Slowly, Umber, Ruy, and Gethen make their way across the floor, surrounding Marella in a loose circle. Biana backs towards the door, unsure of what to do- she should help, probably, but goodness knows she can’t take out _criminals_ with a frying pan. 

Well. Not more than _one_ criminal, at least. 

“So what do you say, boys?” Umber gives Marella a considering look. “Should we turn her in or just kill her here and now?”

Marella’s eyes go wide in an expression Biana knows mirrors her own. She glances towards Fintan, who’s leaning against a table with a cheerful smile on his face. Gethen speaks up before Biana can decide what to do.

“Where’s the crown, Redek? Give it to us and we _might_ let you go.”

“I don’t have it,” Marella says cooly, meeting his eyes. Ruy snorts. 

“Right. Then who does?”

“Me.”

Biana unclasps her cloak, letting it fall to the floor and reveal the metric ton of hair she’s been trying to hide. She holds the frying pan up in self-defense. Marella curses under her breath as everyone in the bar turns to Biana. 

“Redek, what the hell is this?” Umber asks. Marella doesn’t answer, too busy trying to set Biana on fire with her eyes. Biana points the frying pan at the taller woman. 

“Give me back my tour guide, please.”

Huffing a snort, Ruy grabs Umber and Gethen by the arms and pulls them back a few feet. Biana crosses the room to Marella’s side and gives the criminals her best _don’t mess with me_ look. She doubts it works well. 

“Tour guide?” Fintan asks, moving to sit up on the bar between the two groups. “Do you run sightseeing now, Marella?”

“No.” Marella growls. “I’m just taking her to see the princess’s lanterns.”

“The lanterns.” Ruy gives Marella a disbelieving look. “You’re going to the _castle?_ I thought you _didn’t_ want to get captured.”

Marella glances at Biana out of the corner of her eye, frustration apparent in her gaze. “Yeah, well, sometimes we make stupid decisions.”

Biana huffs. “Like you’ve never had a dream.” She glares at everyone in the bar, annoyed and tired and tamping down guilt for leaving her tower. She’s _so done_ with this. “All of you. You all act like you’re tough, like you’d kill someone and take their loot with no remorse, but you can’t pretend you’ve never _wanted_ something.” 

She turns to Marella. “So I’m _sorry_ I’m so naive or whatever. I’m _sorry_ I see the lights once a year and wish I could be among them. But I’m not sorry I’ve ever wanted to be more than I am.”

The bar is silent, and Biana suddenly realizes she told a room full of criminals that they’re fakers. She braces for the incoming violence. 

“Music,” Gethen says abruptly, turning away from them and moving back to the piano. “I always wanted to play music.” He taps a few keys, letting the notes hang in the air. Fintan shifts uncomfortably on the bar. 

“There was an acting troupe that came to town when I was twelve,” he admits. “I thought they were the best thing ever. I wanted to _be_ them.”

“Flowers are pretty cool,” Ruy says, staring fixedly at the opposite wall. Everyone’s eyes turn to Umber, who raises an eyebrow in response. 

“Baking.” 

“See?” Biana gestures towards the four criminals, a tiny bit of hope that maybe she _isn’t_ going to die today rising in her chest. “We’ve all had dreams. Am I really so stupid for wanting to see the lanterns?”

“Yes,” Marella answers. Her face slips into a small smile. “But… I guess I can understand dreaming.”

“Oh? What about?” Biana asks. Marella opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, and- a loud _crash_ comes from outside the Valkonian. Gethen rushes to a window, turning back with a white face. 

“Royal guards,” he says lowly. Ruy glances back at Marella and Biana.

“All right,” he sighs. “Come on. We’ve got an exit out the back.”

“We’ll cover for you,” Fintan adds, heading for the front entrance with a huge smile. “I’m pretty good at distractions.”

“What?” Marella asks. “You’re not going to turn us in? But-”

Umber grabs her by the shoulders, forcibly turning her towards the small door behind the bar. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, kid.” Marella ducks through the door and Umber turns to Biana. 

“Good luck with your dream,” she says. Biana shoots her a smile. 

“You too.”

And then she’s being pushed into a tunnel and the door is being shut in her face. 

“That went well,” Marella says. Biana laughs. 

“I think it did, yeah. Where does this lead?”

Marella turns and starts down the tunnel. It’s dim, the only light coming from the cracks in the door behind them, and Biana thinks she can hear rushing water somewhere to the left. 

“It lets out on the riverbank,” Marella calls. “A little under two miles from the palace. We’ll camp there for the night and head into the city proper for the celebration tomorrow.” 

“All right. Hey, what were you going to say earlier? About your dreams?” 

Shrugging, Marella turns a corner and glances back at Biana in the steadily-dimming light. 

“I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“I really doubt that.” 

The earth around them is almost pitch-black now, the rest of the tunnel stretching ahead like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole. Biana can barely see Marella when she takes a deep breath, opens her mouth, and freezes. 

“Wait. What’s that sou-” 

A wave of cold water rushes in, covering Biana’s bare feet and drenching the bottom of her skirt. And it’s rising _fast._

Marella curses again and grabs Biana’s hand, pulling her down the tunnel- _into_ the path of the water, which doesn’t seem like the best strategy, but Biana isn’t going to argue. She skids to a stop in front of what might be a stone wall; in the dark, Biana can’t tell. 

“There should be an exit somewhere around here,” Marella says in a panicked voice. “Do you see it?”

“I can’t see anything,” Biana responds. She reaches out a hand to feel the stones, searching for some sort of crack or opening they can get through. The water’s nearly reached her waist by now. 

Marella shoves the wall, trying to get something to give, but nothing happens. She sags against Biana, cradling a hand to her chest in a way that makes it clear she’s injured it.

“Sorry,” she whispers, the word barely discernible above the rushing water. “You never got to see the lanterns.”

“Hey. This was still the best day I’ve ever had. Even with the criminals and numerous death threats.”

Marella manages a small laugh. The water is almost lapping against her chin. “I’m glad. You’re so happy, you know that? You’re lucky you get to be that happy.”

“Hmm?” 

The shorter girl has to kick her feet to keep her head dry now; the water will have completely filled the cave in just a few minutes. She shoots Biana a sad smile. “You’re lucky you’re allowed to be a girl. I’ve always wanted that.” Her head ducks under the water for a moment, and she’s not smiling when she resurfaces. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m saying that. It’s weird.”

“I don’t think you’re the weird one here. I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” Biana responds automatically. Then she stills. “Wait.” 

_“What?”_

Biana’s already gathering as much of her waterlogged hair into her arms as she can. She starts singing under her breath, song as familiar as breathing. Slowly, teal light starts to run along the strands of hair. The color is familiar- it’s the same not-quite-natural shade Biana sees each time she looks in the mirror. 

The light is bright, though, bright enough to light up the stone walls and illuminate the astonished face of the girl next to her. And down, near Biana’s ankle, she sees it. A round stone door.

“There.”

Marella wastes no time, taking a strand of Biana’s hair down with her as she dives and tugs the door open. 

Water rushes past Biana in a huge wave, propelling her through and onto a soggy riverbank. Marella’s lying next to her, blond hair loose from its braid. 

“After we dry off,” she gasps, sucking air into her lungs, “we are _so_ talking about this.”


	2. Firelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Biana turns around to look at her, silhouetted against the woods. “Thank you,” Marella says. Biana smiles as the other girl disappears into the trees. The clearing is quiet, just the crackle of embers and the whistle of wind. Then-  
> “Out a little late, aren’t we?” 
> 
> (Or: Marella and Biana have a talk, Vespera makes an unwanted appearance, and the palace's lanterns are as beautiful as always.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait a week to post this, but I have no self control. Enjoy!
> 
> (And make sure to check out @lemontarto over on tumblr to see her beautiful art for this chap!)

The fire crackles merrily, embers flying a few inches into the air before landing on the ground. Biana can already feel her dress starting to dry, and she relishes the warmth. Marella’s sitting on a log across from her, legs curled up to her chest. She meets Biana’s eyes. 

“So. Your hair glows.”

Biana exhales, looking down at her lap and twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. It’s back to normal brown by now, but she can tell Marella’s still thinking about the light. 

“It can do more than that,” she admits carefully. “Here. Give me your hand.”

She moves around the fire to sit next to Marella, wrapping a portion of hair around the cut on her hand. Marella makes a confused noise and starts to ask something, but Biana’s already humming the song. 

Teal light engulfs Marella’s hand. When Biana pushes her hair back, the shallow cut on her palm is gone.

“Your hair glows,” the shorter girl repeats. “And it can… heal wounds? How long has it been able to do that?”

“Ever since I was a baby. Mother says when I was little, people tried to take it. They wanted its power for themselves. But as soon as it’s cut…” she trails off, shrugging. “It loses the magic, I guess. That’s why I stayed in the tower for so long. It kept me safe.”

“Oh.”

Biana nods, searching frantically for a subject change. “Um, so, that thing you said back there, about your dream...”

Marella laughs ruefully, uncurling her legs and leaning her elbows on her knees. “Yeah. I- uh, I didn’t have the best time growing up. My dad was gone, and my mom is-  _ was-  _ really sick, so it was kind of up to me to get food and stuff.” 

She stares into the fire, face lit by the shifting shadows. “Mom used to read me this book.  _ The Adventures of Amelia.  _ It was about this girl who could talk to animals; she’d go around and help people, saving the day with, like, cookies and kittens. She was strong, and brave, and she was a girl. I wanted to be like that.

“But… you know. It’s a lot harder to be a girl, to be sweet and open and caring, when your whole life depends on scamming other people.”

“Hey.” Biana scoots closer and grabs her hand. Marella turns to look her in the face, icy eyes softened in the flickering light. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. No, really,” she says when Marella starts to interrupt. “You are. And you can be a girl too. I mean, look at me! I wear dresses and hit people with frying pans and I’m hecking  _ awesome. _ ” 

Marella laughs, and it boosts Biana’s confidence to sky-high levels. She squeezes the blond girl’s hand. “You’re allowed to want more. You’re allowed to  _ be  _ more. If I can get out of my tower and do this much in just a day, you can change the world. Okay?”

“Okay,” Marella agrees. Her smile twists into something worried. “Are you- going to go back? To your tower.” 

“I don’t know.”

Marella gazes at her with an unreadable expression. “Okay,” she says again, standing up. “I’m going to go get more wood. And Biana?” 

Biana turns around to look at her, silhouetted against the woods. “Thank you,” Marella says. Biana smiles as the other girl disappears into the trees. The clearing is quiet, just the crackle of embers and the whistle of wind. Then-

“Out a little late, aren’t we?” 

Her mother steps out of the forest, long black cloak brushing the dirt as she glides forward. Biana’s eyes go wide.

“Mother? How did you-”

“I always know when you’re in trouble, beautiful.” Mother raises a hand and Biana stands up, moving forward until they’re standing just a few feet away from each other. She can’t speak, all of the confidence she’s gained in the past few hours ripped away. Mother folds her arms. “Come on. We’re going home.”

“But- Mother, you don’t understand. I’ve seen so much today-  _ learned  _ so much- I even met someone!”

“Oh, yes. The wanted criminal. How  _ romantic. _ ” Mother’s voice drips with sarcasm and Biana finds herself shrinking, hugging her arms around her stomach. “Stop being ridiculous, darling. She’s not here for you. She’s here for  _ this. _ ” She reaches into the folds of her cloak and holds out the amethyst crown, purple gemstones winking in the light. Biana inhales sharply and Mother smiles. 

“Give it to her, why don’t you. Then you’ll see how fast your little relationship will fall apart.”

“I  _ will. _ ”

Mother drops the crown into her palm and swirls around in a rush of black fabric. “All right, then,” she calls back. “But don’t come crying to me when she leaves you like _that._ ” She snaps her fingers and then she’s gone, leaving Biana clutching a gold circlet to her chest and trying to regulate her breathing. 

“Hey,” Marella says, staggering into the clearing two minutes later with an armful of sticks. “Everything okay? You look a little pale.”

Biana pointedly does not look at her satchel, where the crown is neatly wrapped in a bit of cloth. “Just tired,” she responds. Marella nods and drops to the ground. 

“We probably should be getting to sleep soon,” she says. “Tomorrow's a big day, after all.”

* * *

The castle towers are ivory white, purple-peaked roofs rising high above the city. It’s huge, larger than life, larger than anything Biana’s ever seen. She finds herself smiling at everyone she sees as they merge into the crowd heading for the city gates. Next to her, Marella fiddles nervously with her cloak clasp. Biana takes her hand and winds their fingers together.

“I’ve only actually been in the city once before,” Marella says in a low voice. “Or, at least, only once when I wasn’t on a job. A few years before my mom died, she was feeling well enough to come out here. It was her birthday, I think.” 

“Birthday?” Biana asks, brow furrowing. Marella raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know, the day you were born? You get gifts and stuff? Didn’t you celebrate it in your tower?” 

Biana shakes her head. “Mother never mentioned anything like that. We didn’t really do celebrations.”

“Hmm. Well, today’s the day you get to do the thing you’ve been wanting to do forever, right? So why don’t we say it’s your birthday?” Marella squeezes her hand. “If this is the first time you get to celebrate, you should have as much fun as possible.”

Biana grins at her. “All right,” she says, and they step through the gates.

There are people  _ everywhere.  _ Biana’s never seen so many in one place- vendors advertising their merchandise, people shouting greetings down from the balconies, kids drawing in chalk on the ground. And there’s the sun, on flags and walls and jackets. The kingdom’s symbol, Marella explains. Its curving rays seem oddly familiar, but Biana shakes it off. She needs to see  _ everything, _ and she needs to see it  _ right now.  _

She takes a step forward and abruptly grinds to a halt when she feels someone pull on her hair. Turning around, she sees people are actually  _ stepping _ on it- it’s stretched across the ground for almost ten feet behind her, Marella frantically trying to gather it all up. Biana grabs as much as she can and they duck into an alleyway out of the way of the main crowd. Marella exhales, blowing at a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from her braid. 

“We need to do something about all this,” she says, hefting the hair in her arms. “And, honestly, we probably need new clothes too. These are…” she glances down at her mudstained tunic and grimaces. “Not celebration-worthy. Plus, this is exactly what I’m wearing in the Wanted posters.” 

Biana nods, attention drawn by a brightly painted sign halfway down the alley.  _ Chebota & Sencen Tailor and Hairdresser,  _ it says, and Marella squints at Biana.

“Huh,” she says. 

The next hour speeds by. Biana’s hair is twisted into a huge braid by a smiling girl named Maruca, flowers placed periodically among the strands. Her dress is cut, front coming down to her knees and back dropping just a bit longer. Maruca and her co-owner Keefe have lived in the city their whole lives, apparently, and the stories she has to tell make Biana choke with laughter. 

Marella steps out of the back room after about forty-five minutes in an ankle-length red dress, gold detailing on the bodice and belt elevating it above a simple cotton. Her hair is down, a few strands braided here and there, and she’s smiling. Really, actually smiling. 

“You look amazing, hon,” Maruca enthuses, giving Keefe a thumbs-up. Biana doesn’t think she can get any words out right now, so she just nods. Marella flushes, meeting Biana’s eyes. 

“I tried to get him to give me a less… vibrant dress, but no go. The belt should be useful, though.” She tilts her head to one side. “Hey. Nice outfit.”

Biana snorts, tossing the braid over her shoulder. “Thanks. It’s easier to walk in, that’s for sure. And the flowers are beautiful.” She turns to Maruca and Keefe, digging a pouch of gold pieces out of her bag. She doesn’t want to know where Marella got it. “How much do we owe you?” 

“Nothing,” Keefe assures her. Biana blinks, and he offers a shrug and a sheepish smile. “Today’s a holiday. Just enjoy yourselves.” 

“Friends don’t have to pay,” Maruca says when Marella starts to argue. “Go have fun. And, you know. Come back sometime.” 

Biana nods and grabs Marella’s hand again, turning toward the door. This is the second group of people that have helped them without asking for something else, and Biana is starting to wonder  _ just _ how wrong Mother was about the outside. 

She can’t care about that when Marella’s hand is so warm in her own, though, and she can’t keep thinking about her tower when the city streets are so vibrant. They flit from here to there to somewhere else, laughing over who-knows-what. Marella buys Biana a tiny sun flag and Biana befriends three different babies _.  _ They dance in a decorated square, passing from person to person until they’re all danced out and just hanging onto each other’s shoulders. And as the sun sets, Biana grabs chalk and sketches a simple scene; two girls, in front of a campfire. Smiling at each other like nothing else in the world matters. 

Marella stares at it, and then at Biana. 

“Wow,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s- beautiful.”

“Yeah, well,” Biana shrugs, feeling strangely bold. “So are you.”

Marella blushes bright red and turns away hurriedly. “I got us a boat!” she practically shouts. “We should get to the boat!” 

The water on the lake is dark, glassy blue. Biana drags her hand through it as Marella rows them out, gazing up at the city glittering above. When she turns back, Marella’s holding out a lit lantern. 

“It’s your first time seeing them,” she says quietly. “I figured you should have one of your own.” 

Biana takes it, balancing it carefully on the tips of her fingers. “When do I let it go?”

Marella points back up to the palace, at one of the highest towers. “The queen and her sons release the first three,” she responds. “Then everyone else.” 

As if on cue, three pinpricks of light rise into the sky. Then five, then ten, then thirty, and then the sky is filled. Light reflects all around them as Biana lets go of her lantern. 

It’s breathtaking. Each lantern is a candle, is a sun, is a universe. Biana’s been dreaming about this for her entire life, but it’s better than she could have ever imagined. 

Still. She finds herself looking back at Marella. Back at the girl who made all this possible, who gave Biana the freedom to be who she’d always wanted to be. Marella, who maybe became the person she’d never let herself be before. 

“Thank you,” she says. Marella shakes her head. 

“Nothing to thank me for. Everything you’ve done, you’ve done yourself.” 

And then she’s shifting forward, and Biana’s leaning in, and the lights are so bright in the sky.

“Hey,” Marella murmurs, breath brushing Biana’s face. 

“Hey.” 

And then they’re getting even closer, and- 

_ Give it to her, why don’t you. Then you’ll see how fast your little relationship will fall apart. _

Biana flinches back, rocking the boat a little. Marella’s eyes flutter open and she frowns. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” Biana rummages for her satchel, opens the flap with shaking fingers, takes out the crown. “I should give this to you.” 

Marella stares at her. Then three things happen, in very quick succession:

One. The first lantern lands in the lake, the rest all coming slowly down to rest on the water. 

Two. The circlet falls to the bottom of the boat, bouncing under Biana’s seat and back into her bag. 

Three. Marella lunges forward, knocking their foreheads together, and presses her lips to Biana’s. 

It’s funny, really. Biana has wanted one thing her whole life, wanted to be someone else since forever. But now that she has it, now that she’s exactly where and who she wants to be, all that seems to fade away. It’s replaced by the weight of Marella’s mouth against hers, the warmth Biana can feel from her head to her toes, the tiny smile Marella gives her when they finally pull away. Biana is where and who she wants to be, and the only thing she wants now is _ this girl.  _

“Hey, so, uh,” Marella says in a voice that seems too loud and too quiet at the same time. “Sorry, was that- I mean, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable-”

Biana kisses her. “You’re fine,” she says. “You’re more than fine, actually- you’re amazing and beautiful and awesome.”

Marella swats at her head. “Stop, you’re making me blush, and that is  _ not  _ in line with my image. Think of my reputation, please.” 

“Right, of course. We can’t have anyone thinking Marella Redek is secretly nice,” Biana laughs. “Even though she’s, you know, the best person I’ve ever met and says the sweetest things and-”

Marella cuts her off with another kiss. Their boat is drifting back towards the city, the moon the only real source of light now that the lanterns have fallen. Biana thinks she sees someone holding a candle down at the end of a dock, but it’s very hard to focus on that when Marella is right in front of her. 

At least, it’s very hard to focus on that until they bump against the wood of that very dock and look up into the faces of Biana’s mother and several castle guards. 

“There she is!” Mother says dramatically, pointing towards Marella. “That’s the girl who kidnapped my daughter!”

“ _ What?” _ Biana shouts. One of the guards snorts.

“Yeah, and she stole the crown too.” He grabs Marella by the arms and lifts her out of the boat, pointing a spear at her throat. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, kid.” 

“She didn’t kidnap me! And look- the crown’s right here!” Biana grabs her bag off the floor and steps out of the boat, nearly falling back in when she realizes the ground is actually solid. Mother slings an arm around her shoulders to steady her and plucks the crown out of her fingers. She hands it to another guard and turns a sympathetic face on Biana.

“Oh, beautiful. I’m afraid she must have confused you somehow. I’ll take her home, gentlemen,” she adds, turning to the royal guards. “Good luck with your execution.”

Marella’s face goes white at the word and she tries to make a break for it, but a guard slams his hand around her arm and nods at Mother. 

“Have a nice night, ma’am.”

Mother steers Biana onto the walkway that crosses the lake, arm a slightly threatening presence across her shoulder. Biana doesn’t even try to get away; her head is still reeling at the sudden change of pace. Two minutes ago, she and Marella were kissing in a boat. Now Biana is going back to her tower, and Marella-

Oh no.

She stops walking right at the place where the woods begin, staring ahead at nothing. Mother turns, rearranging her face into something that’s probably meant to be compassionate. It just makes Biana’s skin crawl. 

“Is something wrong, dear?”

“They’re going to kill her,” Biana says blankly. Then she spins around and faces the palace again. “They’re going to  _ kill  _ her. I need to go-” 

“And do  _ what? _ Beautiful, this is what happens to criminals. They die, and they deserve it. You’re just one girl, darling. You can’t fight justice.” She pets Biana’s head. “Now come home. I’ll brush your hair, and we can bake those pastries you like-”

“No.” 

Mother arches an eyebrow. “No?”

“No,” Biana repeats. “I’m not going home with you, and I’m not going to pretend like everything’s fine. It’s  _ not _ fine, Mother.”

“Please, Biana, you know you’re being daft-” 

“You said that Marella didn’t love me. You said she’d leave when I gave her the crown. But she does, and she  _ didn’t,  _ and I’m not going to let her die after everything we’ve been through.”

“Ugh.” Mother shakes her head, like  _ Biana’s  _ the one being unreasonable. “You know, I tried to be nice. I tried to give you a beautiful life, and this is how you repay me?” She steps closer to Biana, towering over her. Biana clutches onto the strap of her satchel. “I’m not asking anymore, Biana. We’re going home.”

“No.” Biana reaches into her bag, looking for something-  _ anything-  _ she can use. Her fingers find cold metal, and she smiles a little. “No, we’re not.”

And then Vespera is lying on the ground, and Biana’s holding a frying pan above her head and letting out a hysterical laugh.

Okay.  _ Okay.  _ No time to freak out. She needs to save Marella,  _ now.  _

_ You’re just one girl,  _ Vespera whispers in her head.  _ You can’t fight justice.  _

“Maybe not,” Biana whispers, turning towards the woods. “But they can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!!


	3. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No killing,” Biana says firmly. “We’re going to get Marella out of there and then we’re going to leave and no one is going to die in the process. Okay?”  
>  “Noted,” Gethen says, tapping a gate on the south side of the castle walls. “I think this is our best bet. It’s out of sight of the watchtowers, so there should only really be two or three guards. It would be better to have someone the guards trust as a distraction, but Fintan will do.”   
> “Wait,” Biana says. “I might know people who can help. They’re city natives- if anyone can get us in, it’s them.”   
> “All right, then,” Fintan points at Biana. “Here’s the plan.” _
> 
> (Or: Biana orchestrates a jailbreak, we meet the queen, and teal light floats up into the sky.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're finally finished!! This fic was such a joy to write and I hope y'all love the last chapter as much as I do. 
> 
> As always, make sure to check out @lemontarto on tumblr for her beautiful art for this chapter! It's all absolutely beautiful and I'm so grateful to Mellie for collaborating on this with me. 
> 
> Enjoy!

In hindsight, knocking down the door of the _Valkonian_ at ten pm and screaming that Marella was going to die probably wasn’t the best idea. Especially since Biana was too out of breath to explain for almost five minutes. 

When she finally gets through it all, though- the city and the arrest and, with much blushing, what had happened in the boat- all the criminals can do is stare. 

“I- okay,” Ruy says eventually. He mumbles a few curses under his breath. “This is bad.” 

“I know,” Biana mutters, tracing a hand over the wood of a table. She can’t help but feel like this is her fault. “Can we save her? Is it  _ possible? _ ”

“We have until noon, at least,” Fintan says. “For such a high-profile theft, they’ll want to make an example of her.” Biana flinches, but he continues. “If we leave in the morning, we should have enough time to grab Marella before she goes anywhere near the hanging block. We just need to get in.”

“The castle has guards everywhere,” Umber murmurs thoughtfully, ducking behind the bar to pull out two sheets of paper- an inner and outer view of the palace with circles marking good exits, because of  _ course  _ that’s something they have. “We could probably take a few of them, but not more than fifteen. And there’s no guarantee they’d be alive afterward.”

“No killing,” Biana says firmly. “We’re going to get Marella out of there and then we’re going to leave and no one is going to die in the process. Okay?”

“Noted,” Gethen says, tapping a gate on the south side of the castle walls. “I think this is our best bet. It’s out of sight of the watchtowers, so there should only really be two or three guards. It would be better to have someone the guards trust as a distraction, but Fintan will do.” 

“Wait,” Biana says. “I might know people who can help. They’re city natives- if anyone can get us in, it’s them.” 

“All right, then,” Fintan points at Biana. “Here’s the plan.” 

_ First things first, we move into the city with the early-morning crowd. Keep your head down- if we’re recognized, we’re done for.  _

_ Then we head for Biana’s friends, who will hopefully be able to get us inside.  _

“Biana?” Maruca yawns, rubbing her eyes. Behind her, Keefe rattles around the shop, putting water on the stove for tea. They’ve both clearly just woken up. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” Biana says. “But we need your help. Can you get us into the palace?” 

“The palace? What-” Keefe appears in the doorway, handing Maruca a mug. She takes a sip and looks far more alive. “Where’s Marella?”

“She’s about to be executed for stealing a royal crown,” Biana says bluntly. Keefe’s eyebrows fly up and he laughs a little. 

“Maybe you guys should come inside.”

_ Knowing Maruca and Keefe, they’ll probably want an explanation. Let me handle that, guys. They already know me.  _

The tea is long gone by the time Biana finishes answering all the questions, and the clock is creeping steadily towards noon. She doesn’t want to rush them, though- at this point, it’s all up to the two dressmakers. 

“Okay,” Maruca says slowly. “I think we can all agree that stealing from the royal family is bad and Marella shouldn’t have done it.”

Biana nods. Ruy makes an  _ eh, sorta  _ gesture and Umber elbows him in the gut. Keefe exchanges a look with Maruca and speaks up. 

“But she shouldn’t be killed for that. So we’ll help you.” He smirks. “Plus, I’ve been wanting to try out the new smokebombs I got from the apothecary.”

_ Once we get them on board, we’ll need a way to transport all of us into the palace. Preferably without making too much of a scene. Fintan, put the sword down.  _

_ Chebota & Sencen,  _ Keefe explains, ships clothing all over the city and into the surrounding farmland. Their deliveries are typically made in one of two carts, large and made explicitly to keep garments intact. These carts are  _ not  _ made to transport people. 

Biana’s bumped her head against the wooden sides at least five times before they pull up to the south gate, and she’s so relieved they’re no longer moving that she almost forgets to be scared. 

Almost. The sight of Gethen and Umber visibly tensing at the murmur of voices outside brings her back to reality. She strains to hear, catching only the words  _ “delivery”  _ and  _ “as soon as possible.”  _ The guards respond and the cart starts rolling again, everyone in the back heaving a small sigh of relief. They’re in. 

_ After that, we just have to get to the prison and find Marella.  _

The path down to the cells is fairly empty- they have to duck behind a few statues here and there to avoid servants, but otherwise they make it down without any interruptions. Biana tries to stay on guard, but all her resolve crumbles when she sees the blond girl hunched in a corner of her cell. 

“Marella!”

Marella’s head snaps up and she jumps to her feet, staring in disbelief at the group gathered in front of her. 

“What-”

“We’re getting you out, kid,” Gethen says. He inserts a tiny metal piece into the lock and it springs open. “Come on.”

Closing the cell door quietly behind her, Marella moves out and brushes her hand against Biana’s. 

“Hey,” Biana says quietly. 

“Hey. How did you-”

There’s a thumping in the hall behind them, and six guards appear in the doorway. Biana glances down the hall, checking for another exit- they can’t fight this many, but maybe they can outrun them. 

“Stand down, criminals, and you  _ might _ be forgiven,” one of the guards calls. Exchanging a look, Maruca and Keefe step forward to stand in between the guards and their group. Maruca glances over her shoulder and jerks her chin towards the doorway at the end of the hall. She holds up three fingers behind her back. 

_ Three.  _

“Wanna see a magic trick?” Keefe says, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a cloth-wrapped ball. Maruca folds one of her fingers down. 

_ Two.  _

“No,” another guard snaps as Maruca counts down again. “Now  _ stand down- _ ”

_ One. _

“Whoops,” Keefe says cheerfully as he drops the ball on the ground. In the split second before it dissolves into smoke, Biana sees Maruca close her hand into a fist. 

They run. Down, and up, and through a complicated series of passageways that Biana can’t remember. She and Marella are in the middle of the pack, Fintan and Ruy in front and Umber and Gethen bringing up the rear. She can hear their pursuers, but they’re still a few good seconds ahead. As long as their luck holds, they can get out of the palace before anything else happens. 

Their luck doesn’t hold. Fintan skids to a stop at a place where another hallway branches off from this one, staring into the face of yet another group of guards. Distantly, Biana wonders where they all sleep. 

The guards that have been chasing them arrive almost instantly. The one who seems to be in charge- his helmet plume is noticeably more purple than the others- glares at Umber. 

“You’re under arrest,” he growls. Umber raises an eyebrow. 

“Good luck with that.”

She lunges forward, grabbing the sword out of his belt and swinging it in a high arc. It’s not enough to actually cut the skin, but it does leave a sizable dent in his armor. Next to her, Gethen and Ruy pull out small knives. 

“Go!” Fintan shouts, snatching an abandoned spear out of the hands of a stunned guard and whirling it above his head in a complicated motion. Marella grabs Biana’s arm and yanks her down the corridor towards sunlight. 

“We need to get out of here,” she hisses. “They’ll be fine. They’re wily.”

Biana really, really hopes she’s right. 

They stumble out onto a large balcony overlooking the dozens of people gathered in the city courtyard below. It’s only when Biana glimpses the rope suspended above a platform that she realizes what’s going on. 

_ For such a high-profile theft, they’ll want to make an example of her.  _

Biana freezes, staring down at the crowd below. The crowd that’s gathered to see Marella  _ executed _ . 

“Oh no,” she whispers. Marella makes a small, frightened noise of agreement.

“Well,” a female voice says behind them. Biana spins around to see three figures standing there- a tall, dark-skinned woman with piercing brown eyes and two men by her side who must be her sons. The younger looks barely two years older than Biana. The woman tilts her head to the side in a gesture that feels oddly familiar. “This is interesting. Marella Redek, I presume?”

“Your majesty,” Marella fumbles, obviously not remembering the correct etiquette for  _ meeting the queen on your way to escape your execution, which was ordered by said queen.  _ “I-” 

Queen Della holds up a hand and Marella goes silent. “You’re the one who stole my crown,” she says in a quiet, firm voice. “My  _ daughter’s  _ crown.”

The older son- Alvar, Biana recalls, which means the younger must be Fitz- rolls his eyes. “Mother,” he starts, “please. She’s gone. You need to-” 

Della shushes him too, turning to the guards who stand at attention behind her. “Please escort Miss Redek back to her cell,” she says. “I will find a better method than execution.” She looks back at Marella. “You’re too young to die.”

Marella nods, face far more relieved than before, and squeezes Biana’s hand tightly before letting go. Biana watches her move towards the guards as the crowds murmur below. She doesn’t know how much they can see, but it must be enough to confuse them. Ignoring this, the queen focuses on Biana. 

“You look…” she trails off. “Familiar. What’s your name?”

Biana opens her mouth to respond, eyes still fixed on Marella’s retreating back. Before she can answer, a voice sends chills down her spine. 

“Biana. She’s my daughter.” 

Vespera strides across the balcony, stopping to curtsey a few feet away from the queen. Her nose is a little bit crooked, and Biana takes pride in that. 

Fitz looks between them, finally asking, “Biologically?” 

“Adopted,” Vespera huffs, and  _ huh.  _ Biana’s always assumed that, but having it confirmed starts to unravel the knot she first noticed when she saw how similar her jawline was to Della’s. There’s something there, something Biana can’t quite figure out. 

At the entrance back to the castle, the guards holding Marella have paused. Biana guesses they’re waiting to see if there will be any drama. 

“Hmm. Well, I’m afraid your daughter was aiding in the escape of a criminal,” the queen says mildly. “I’ll have to put her in a cell for a few days before she can stand trial.”

“I’m sure you understand that this is all one big, confusing mess,” Vespera says. Her voice is honey-sweet. “Biana has done nothing wrong. I’ll just take her home, and-”

“I’m not going  _ anywhere  _ with you.” 

Biana doesn’t mean for it to come out as loud as it does- her words echo across the balcony, quieting the crowd below. Vespera sends her a vicious glare. 

“We’ll talk about this later, Biana.”

“We won’t talk about this at all, because I’m not going anywhere with you. Sorry,  _ Mother- _ if you even  _ are _ that.” 

Vespera takes a step forward, but Biana has one end of the knot in her hand and she’s not stopping until it unravels. Pieces start to fall into place- her obsession with the lanterns, her dark hair the same shade as the royal family’s, the sun symbol that, now that she thinks about it, Biana has painted into nearly all of her art. 

Across the balcony, Marella breaks free from her guards. They let her go, too busy staring;  _ everyone’s  _ too busy staring. 

“You stole me,” Biana says, voice shaking the tiniest bit. “You stole me, and you used me for my magic. You used me to keep yourself young.” 

Next to her, Marella sidles up and presses something cold into her hand. 

“Biana-” Vespera starts. Biana’s heartbeat is loud, thundering in her ears. She needs to get this out. Needs to hear the truth.

“I’m not your daughter. I’m the lost princess.”

Everything goes quiet. A few feet away, Queen Della stares at Biana with wide eyes. Her hand flutters up to cover her mouth. 

“Amberly. You’re- here. You’re  _ alive _ .”

And Biana realizes, for the first time, that this woman is her mother. That her name would have been Amberly, if she had stayed. That this is her family. 

“Hi, Mom.”

Della chokes back a sob and rushes toward her, but grinds to a stop when Biana feels a tug on her hair. Vespera has a hand curled in the still-braided strands, and she looks  _ furious.  _

“She’s coming with me,” she says in a voice that’s angrier than Biana’s ever heard her. “Take one more step and you’ll regret it.” 

Biana tries to move away, but Vespera is stronger than she looks. There’s no way she can get her hair out. Unless-

Suddenly, she recognizes the cold metal Marella handed her. It’s the other girl’s knife, the hilt slightly bumpy under her fingers.  _ Oh.  _

A few days ago, Biana would never be considering this. A few days ago, she’d be content in her tower, staring at the sky and dreaming of lanterns but never really thinking about going to them. A few days ago, Biana would be content with who she was; that wide-eyed, naive girl that wouldn’t have ever stood up for herself.

Standing on a balcony with Marella at her side and her family in front of her, that old Biana couldn’t feel further away. 

Carefully, slowly, Biana reaches up and grabs her hair a few inches from where the braid starts. Carefully, she lines up the knife. 

And then, with a tiny  _ snip,  _ her braid falls to the ground. 

The next few moments happen in fragments, distorted by a bright teal light Biana registers as coming from her eyes. She hears Vespera’s anguished scream, feels the older woman’s fingers claw at her back, manages to catch a glimpse of grey streaks shooting up into her hairline. Sees Vespera reach for her as she topples off the balcony, watches helplessly as Marella tackles the now-elderly woman and they both go flying down, down, down.

She hears a scream, and she knows it's her own.

A hand grasps her arm, shaking her out of her daze. It’s Fitz, face set in determination. 

“Come on,” he says. 

They race back through passageways and twirl around spiral staircases, each step faster than the last. Finally, Biana bursts through the gates to see the crowd standing back and two figures lying on the stone. 

Or, one figure and an empty cape. Biana will have to think about that later, find out what Vespera dying means for her. For now, all she cares about is Marella. 

The blond girl’s arm is twisted at an odd angle, and from her pained expression, Biana can tell the damage goes deeper than that. She manages a small smile when Biana lifts her head into her lap, though. 

“Hey,” she says. Biana blinks back tears. 

“No. No, you’re going to be okay. You  _ have  _ to be okay.”

“Hey,” Marella says again, reaching up with her non-injured hand to touch Biana’s cheek. “You did so good, did I tell you that? You were so brave.”

Biana starts to sing, but even as she does, she knows it's useless. Her magic is gone, cut along with her hair. She can’t heal anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“Don’t be. You helped me become who I always wanted to be.” Marella gives her another, more genuine smile. “You’re amazing like that.”

Biana kisses her. It’s salty with tears, but she can’t bear to think this is the last time she’ll be able to hold Marella. To hug her, or talk to her. She can’t lose this girl. 

Marella gasps and Biana opens her eyes in astonishment. The teal light- the one that’s always been there when she used her hair, the one that she thought vanished with her magic- is surrounding them both, dancing around in a cloud of colored sparks. Marella sits up, and it doesn’t seem to hurt. 

Biana grins at her, giddy with relief and happiness. 

“Hey.”

They’re back. 

* * *

_ Epilogue _

_ One Year Later _

“Bi!” Fitz calls from outside her room, voice tinged with annoyance Biana knows is fake. “Are you ready yet?” 

“Calm down, Your Highness,” Keefe says, crossing the room and sweeping open the door. “Can’t rush perfection.” He cocks his head to one side and smirks. “‘Course, you’d know about perfection, looking like that.”

Fitz huffs and pushes past him into the room, but there’s a pink flush on his cheeks. Biana grins. She’s  _ so  _ teasing him later. 

“Bi, come on. We’re going to be late,” he says. Biana snorts and grabs her cape, pinning it carefully with a royal sun pin. She stares at herself in the mirror, trying to reconcile the Biana of then with the Biana of now. 

Her hair is shorter, of course. She wears skirts less. Her eyes aren’t teal anymore- somewhere between cutting her braid and healing Marella, the magic that made them colorful faded away. Biana can’t find it in herself to care; her eyes are a soft, dark brown, the same shade as her mother’s. And when she smiles, she sees herself. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

The sun is nearly set by the time the two of them reach the tower, purplish-pink arms of dusk enveloping the whole sky. Keefe breaks off halfway there to head back to the festivities in the city, with a wink and  _ see you later  _ for Fitz. Alvar turns as they enter. 

“Finally,” he says. “Mom’s about to start her speech.”

Della kisses Biana’s forehead and tugs her forward, into line of sight of the crowds below. They cheer when the two come into view. 

“Tonight is a very special night,” Della announces. “It’s my daughter’s birthday; the first birthday she’s been with us since she was born. And believe me, we’re all ecstatic to have her back- even if she is a little annoying sometimes.” 

Laughter. Della smiles and continues, lifting a paper lantern on two fingers. “For eighteen years, we released lights on her birthday, to mourn the passing of our beloved princess. Tonight, we celebrate the return of Princess Biana Amberly Vacker.” 

She holds the lantern out in offering. Biana looks down at the crowds, knowing that Maruca and Keefe and all the criminals from the  _ Valkonian  _ are out there somewhere celebrating. She glances back to the balcony, to the four people standing there- her brothers, who make her smile every day. Her mother, who’s so much kinder and loving than her first one. And Marella. 

Biana takes the lantern and holds out a hand for her fiancee. Marella snorts but moves to stand alongside her, gold-embroidered dress catching in the light. She looks perfect and cheerful and content, and Biana knows without asking that she looks the same. They’re both who they want to be, where they want to be. They’re both happy. 

“Hey,” Biana says. Marella grins. 

“Hey.”

Together, they lift the lantern into the sky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm @cadence-talle on tumblr, come say hi!
> 
> Comments/kudos are love!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @cadence-talle on tumblr, come say hi! 
> 
> Comments are love!!


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